


absentmindedly making me want you

by shuijing



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Podfic Available, Summer Vacation, no actual teaching involved though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuijing/pseuds/shuijing
Summary: Minho and Jisung have been best friends for years. It takes a two-hour bus ride, three days under the sun and a dream for all that to fall apart (in the best way possible).
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 25
Kudos: 315
Collections: SKZ Secret Santa





	absentmindedly making me want you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitsori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsori/gifts).



> firstly, to my lovely recipient: hello and merry christmas! i tried to include as much of your prompts/things you like as possible, don’t know if i succeeded though.... either way, i hope you like this! happy holidays!!
> 
> please suspend your disbelief and don’t question the logistics of this fic. i don’t really know how things are done in other schools, but i went to a rich people high school and teachers really did go on expensive outings paid for by the school. anyway, one year they went to this high-end amusement park, and there’s (unconfirmed) rumours that a biology teacher brought his boyfriend on that trip, and i always wanted to write a fic based on that. now i have!
> 
> i’ll stop talking now, please enjoy!!

"Hey, have you heard?" Hyunjin props himself up on the office partition that separates their desks. Minho looks up from the assignments in front of him, jerking himself out the mechanical mindset he falls into when he's grading, and blinks at Hyunjin, prompting him to continue. "About where we're going for this year's staff outing?"

"No." Minho begins to smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The annual staff outing is one of the perks of working at an top-ranking high school with ridiculously expensive school fees and students whose parents are a little too loose with their wallets, among other things (teaching some of the brightest teenagers this side of Seoul, a comfortable salary for a single man and his three cats, co-workers that share his passion for teaching the youth, blah blah blah, none of that compares to the year they stayed a night at _Paradise City_ ). As the weather gets warmer, the first school term is drawing to a close, and it's usually around this time that they have a meeting to inform them of where they're going this year. Minho has no clue where Hyunjin got this information from, since they haven't even received an email notice of the meeting, but now his curiosity has been awakened. "Tell me."

"Well." Hyunjin lowers his voice to an exaggerated whisper, because he's dramatic like that. "It's not so much of a staff _outing_ as a staff _trip_."

"Huh?" Minho says. In the handful of years he's worked here, they've at most stayed overnight at someplace nice, but never have they ventured far from Seoul.

"We're going to Naksan Beach!" Hyunjin says excitedly, unable to keep it in any longer. "Three days, two nights at a seaside hotel."

Minho's eyes go wide. Naksan Beach, at this time of year, is lovely, and it's surrounded by mountains and beautiful scenery. Three days of refreshing coastal weather, stunning views of the sea from his hotel room and as much seafood as he can stomach? The board of directors really outdid themselves this time.

"Oh my God," Minho says, rising from his seat. "I know I say this every year, but I cannot _wait_ until school lets out. Hold on, I'm gonna tell Jisung."

He walks over to the railing of the staircase that leads to the lower level of the staffroom. The top floor is for mathematics and science teachers, and the bottom floor for humanities and languages. This would probably hinder him talking to his best friend in any other circumstance, but luckily for both of them, their desks are located the closest to this spiral staircase, meaning they've annoyed the hell out of every other teacher in the vicinity by yelling up and down at each other for the better part of their careers here.

"Jisung!" He calls. A beat of silence passes, then Jisung's head pops out from behind his office partition, just barely visible from Minho's point of view. "What?" He yells back up, and distantly Minho hears Changbin's mutter of _"Not this racket again."_ from somewhere behind him.

"Jisung, we're going to Naksan Beach!" Minho tells him, and even though he's fairly sure that Jisung has no clue what he's talking about, Jisung still shoots him a thumbs-up, his lips curving up into a big grin. "We're going to the beach!" He parrots in an excited trill.

Minho smiles. It's nice to have someone who goes along with his antics without questioning them, just happy to join in. But of course, the moment is broken when Hyunjin wraps his arm around Minho's shoulders and makes a jab at Jisung. "I hope the board of executives kicks you off the invite list. My lab still smells like sulfur."

Jisung slides backwards on his swivel chair until he's fully visible from upstairs. "Wait, is this about the staff outing?" He sticks his tongue out at Hyunjin. "And that was not my fault! I was just looking for my whiteboard markers, which by the way, _you stole from me._ How was I supposed to know you were doing experiments in there? You don't put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door!"

"You and Hyunjin's ridiculous pseudo-feud aside," Seungmin says, standing up from where he’s sitting at Felix’s desk. "We're going to Naksan for the staff outing?"

Then, like those seagulls in _Finding Nemo,_ Changbin pipes up with, "Naksan?"

And of course this is when Chan comes out his Dean's office, looking tired. "Can't you guys use KaKaoTalk like normal people?"

In response, Jisung stands up on his chair, nearly toppling off when he cups his hands around his mouth and whoops. "Chan-hyung, we're going to the beach!"

+++

Minho didn't meet Jisung at the school they're teaching in, the way he met all their other friends. They met in at the start of Minho's last year in university, when Minho was doing his job as an RA and introducing himself to all the residents on his floor that he would be taking under his wing. The door to Jisung's room was wide open when Minho walked by to check on the last student, and Minho could see that inside, this sophomore had already made a mess. Jisung had responded to his greeting with a wide smile and an introduction of his own, and within a few minutes of chatting, Minho found out that even though their fields of study were perhaps as different as they could possibly be — biology and Korean literature hardly overlapped in any area, except the terrifying amount of rote memorisation that they had to suffer through — they were both enrolled in the teacher preparation program their school offered. And so began a friendship wherein Jisung partnered up with Minho during every hall bonding activity he organised, Jisung begged for notes Minho had made for the one unit of their education course that was near impossible to pass, Jisung camped out in Minho's room the time the power went out in their dormitory building. It never seemed to matter that Jisung was two years younger, or that Minho was his RA. They were just Jisung and Minho, best friends, future best teachers.

Somehow the younger boy burrowed his way into Minho's life and never left. Even after Minho graduated, they kept in touch, grabbing coffee together in between Jisung's exams and Minho getting his first (and so far, only) teaching position. When Jisung finally graduated, Minho was already employed in his current school, and Jisung had, on a whim, applied to join it too, among a bunch of others. "Let's see if fate favours us together," he had said with a wink and a laugh, sending in his resume.

Two weeks later, he got a call for an interview.

After being in the same school for years, Minho has reason to presume that their co-workers have gotten used to their antics. It seems, however, that his and Jisung's particular brand of foolery continues to irritate.

"Woo!" Jisung screams into the wind, leaving his suitcase on the sidewalk as he veers off-course onto the beginnings of a sandy beach. They've arrived in Naksan, finally, and Jisung was the first one off the bus, followed closely by Minho. "We're on vacation!"

Seungmin catches him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back. "How old are you, eight?" He asks drily. "We still have to check into the hotel before we do any actual vacationing."

Minho laughs, abandoning his bags as well to run to Jisung's side and take his wrist, pulling him out of Seungmin’s grasp. "Don't be so uptight, hyung, we just spent two hours on a cramped bus." He had found himself sitting with Seungmin, Jisung with Jeongin in front of them, and even with the boundary of seats between them he and Jisung had prattled on in their usual mindless fashion until Seungmin had clobbered them both with his neck pillow and told them to shut up. 

"Race you to the sea?" Minho says, turning to Jisung. His smile only grows wider, his eyes crinkling as he starts off in the opposite direction of Seungmin, watching them with exasperation from the pavement. "You're on!" They run towards the crashing waves, stumbling as grass quickly gives way to the unstable dips and rises of sandy beachfront, neither of them paying much attention to the fact that it isn't really a race when their hands are still linked. 

Just before his feet can hit the water, Minho unwraps his fingers from Jisung's wrist and stops in his tracks, leaving Jisung to fly into the unrelenting sea by himself. Still powered by the momentum of their impromptu race, Jisung only manages to stop when he's ankles-deep in water. At the sight of the utter betrayal on his face when he turns back to him, Minho loses it, doubling over in laughter while Jisung yells at him about being a bad hyung. He still hasn't gotten out of the water.

"Come here, asshole!" Jisung makes a grab for Minho, but the older man deftly dodges it, backing up on the gently sloping coast, and that begins a chase in which Minho is just barely pulling ahead. The seaside breeze ruffles his hair, and as refreshing as it is, it isn't as picturesque as it sounds. All it really does is blow his fringe into his eyes. The soft squelching noises that Jisung's shoes are making with each step send Minho into another laughing fit, making it hard to run, and eventually Jisung catches him around the middle and pulls him backwards.

"Ah, ah!" Minho struggles against his hold for a few seconds, then goes limp. In truth, he could struggle a lot harder. He's not only taller than Jisung, but more muscular, and when they play-wrestled in university for the last chicken wing (which they don't do _now,_ obviously, because they're _adults_ ) he always won, though him actually getting that chicken wing depended on whether Jisung turned on the puppy dog eyes or not. But he doesn't, because this is kind of nice. It's warm within the circle of his embrace, and he can feel Jisung's breath fanning over his neck. In the summer heat, it should feel uncomfortable and sticky, but Minho has to suppress a shiver when Jisung exhales again, a quick, panting burst as he recovers from their game. Sure, they're touchy, have always been affectionate since the beginning of their friendship, but they're not clingy like this, not often since they both became working adults. The last time Minho remembers this much of their skin being in contact was during the first and only power outage of his university education, when Jisung had come to his room with the intention of sleeping on his floor and they ended up curled around each other under Minho's blanket.

Then Jisung kicks the back of his calf with his disgustingly damp shoe, and Minho breaks out of his grip, immediately spinning around. Jisung makes a scared squeaking noise when he sees his face. Minho would have tackled him to the ground, too, if not for Chan yelling from behind him. "The two of you, come back here!"

Minho contents himself with tripping Jisung up as the younger man streaks past, presumably to the safety of the rest of the staff. Everyone else has already assembled on the sidewalk, suitcases spilling everywhere. Chan rolls his eyes when he sees them, but he still lets Jisung duck behind him to hide from Minho's wrath.

Principal Park leads all the staff up the path, past hammocks and beach chairs set up for the hotel guests, and they enter the hotel's side entrance to see a beautifully furnished lobby. It's spacious and welcoming; there's an small indoor fountain near the main entrance, and artwork along the walls, and staff in nicely pressed uniforms who greet them with smiles. The rest of them relax on the couches placed around the lobby as the principal and deans settle rooming arrangements at the reception desk. They already sorted out their roommates last week; Minho, inevitably, ended up with Jisung.

"It just makes sense, hyung, I'm already used to your naked body first thing in the morning!" Jisung had said brightly, and Felix had given him a confused look.

"I sleep in boxers," Minho elaborated patiently. Felix had just looked more lost. "That doesn't... Explain... Anything?"

"You two deserve each other," Seungmin declared, walking away with a long-suffering gulp of his coffee. Whatever that meant.

They get the keycards to their room soon enough, and strict instructions to gather again in the lobby in the appropriate attire after they've freshened up in their rooms. Minho and Jisung's room is on one of the higher floors, so they wait for the elevator with Jeongin and Hyunjin while the rest rooming on lower floors disappear into the staircase. 

"What are we gonna do once we assemble in the lobby?" Jeongin asks, a touch nervously, once they're inside the elevator. Minho smiles; he always forgets the social sciences teacher has only been part of their school's staff for less than a year, because of how well Jeongin had meshed with their friend circle, but now he's reminded that Jeongin has never been on a staff outing before.

"Relax, we're just going to the beach, I think," Jisung says, ruffling Jeongin's hair. Minho tries not to laugh at Jeongin having to dip his head a little so that he can reach. "Principal Park is strict at work, but on these trips he's a lot more chill and lets us do whatever we want! Provided we don't get arrested or anything."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Hyunjin snorts, and Jisung glares, embarrassment evident in the whine of his voice. "Stop bringing that up! I was trying to find the Lost Children Center, if I had been going in the right direction it wouldn't have looked like I picked up a random kid and was heading to the car park to stick him in a white van and hold him hostage!"

"Ah, I'll never forget the year we went to Lotte World and Jisung was mistaken for a child kidnapper," Minho says, wiping a fake tear from his eyes. Jisung swipes at him, but right then the elevator doors open to signal their arrival at their floor and Minho manages to escape with his suitcase in hand. Their room is the furthest one from the elevator, and Jisung chases him right up to the door, then delivers a flurry of smacks to his arm as Minho slides the keycard in.

The inside of their room is clean and bigger than what Minho expected. There's a cabinet with a television set mounted on it, a closet placed outside their bathroom, and two beds, one pressed against the wall connected to the bathroom and the other closer to the floor-to-ceiling window. Jisung immediately flings himself on the latter bed, sighing as his limbs melt into the soft mattress, so Minho places his luggage at the foot of the other and digs around in the closet until he finds the disposable slippers.

"Hyung, look!" Minho looks up from where he's slipped his feet into the slippers, then squints against the sudden brightness flooding the room. Jisung has thrown open the curtains to reveal that behind it is not a floor-to-ceiling window, but a set of glass doors. "We have a balcony! And it overlooks the sea!"

Minho lobs the other pair of slippers at Jisung's outstretched hand, though his aim is a little off and it ends up nearer to his thigh. He walks closer and peers through the glass. There's nothing in the balcony except a small, round table and a single chair, but further out is a wonderful view. The waves lap at the beach languidly, sunshine reflecting off the water with a shimmer, and the handful of people on the beach look like little toy figures.

"Sweet, right?" Jisung says from his side. "I'm glad we got a room so high up. The lower floors don't have a view like this."

"It's pretty," Minho agrees. He turns to Jisung, smiling. "Can't wait to get down there and destroy you in whatever game Chan-hyung has organised."

When Chan sends a text into their staff KaKaoTalk chatroom to come down to the lobby, he and Jisung have already changed into board shorts and flip flops. Jisung has crammed a fire engine-red bucket hat on his head, bouncing on his feet as they wait for everyone else, filtering into the lobby in pairs and trios. Changbin appears with a pair of arm floats obviously made for children and obviously bought specifically to antagonise Minho, presenting them to him with a flourish like he's giving Minho the best gift in existence. Hyunjin nearly falls over from laughing too hard.

It turns out that what the deans have organised is beach volleyball. Even after pairing up, there aren't enough nets on the beach for even half of the staff to play together, so most pairs split off to do something else. Someone procures a football and they start kicking it around. Without any goalposts, the primary aim of the game seems to be to steal the ball from whoever currently has it. A group of others disappear to splash around in the surf. Hyunjin wonders aloud, as he passes by them to join the game of frisbee, if there was any chance they could go parasailing. Minho, with his inability to swim and his fear of heights, shudders just thinking about it.

For once, he finds himself and Jisung on opposing teams, he and Jeongin on one end of the net, Jisung and Seungmin on the other. Jeongin grabs one of the stray volleyballs, and Minho directs his question at Jisung. "Are you sure you don't want to go swimming?"

"Do you wanna go?" Jisung furrows his brow, and when Minho shakes his head no, he shrugs. "Then why are you asking? I'm staying here, too."

Minho blinks. The display of loyalty isn't unexpected; Jisung has always said cheesy things like, "Minho-hyung and I have to stick together," and, "Hyung and I are one," but in the past few days leading up to their departure from Seoul, all Minho has heard is his constant raving about the beautiful and clear waters at Naksan Beach. He'd assumed Jisung would jump at the chance to sink himself into the cooling waves (which he has already done, quite literally, feet first with his shoes still on).

"Alright then, don't regret it when we beat you." Minho motions at Jeongin to toss him the ball and catches it easily.

"Bring it on, baby!" Jisung crows, hands held out at the ready, and Minho almost fumbles the ball. It's hardly the first time that Jisung has called him baby, or some other sappy nickname. In fact, they do it so liberally their classes know about it, and he's had graduated students come visit their high school and ask if he and Han-ssaem have gotten married yet. (The one time they'd jokingly said yes garnered reactions so enthusiastic that it was a little concerning.) But strangely, in the hazy glow of the summer sun, between one lungful of salty air and the next, he feels —

And then it's gone, and he sends the ball upwards before hitting it over the net with a satisfying _thwack,_ and Jisung almost dives face-first into the sand trying to save it, and they play.

Jisung, as they find out, is kind of awful at volleyball. Seungmin is the best out of all of them, and Jeongin is great at spiking. Minho has some hand-eye coordination skills leftover from when he was a dancer in university, so he saves his own dignity with that. But Jisung tends to over-estimate where the ball is going to land, and his enthusiasm paired with the unpredictability of their sandy terrain, unfortunately, just means that he almost falls on his ass a bunch of times. They spend more time laughing than they do actually passing the ball.

Luckily, after about an hour, Chan and Jihyo, one of the other deans, rescues Jisung from himself with the arrival of two fat bags of ice cream and popsicles. They abandon their game quickly, running over to get first pick before the ones playing frisbee and that poor imitation of football notice.

“Thanks, noona, hyung!” Jisung beams, fishing out a chocolate-flavoured ice cream. Minho rummages around until he finds a mint chocolate one, unwrapping it quickly before it melts in the noontime heat. The first bite is cool and refreshing after an hour of running and throwing and sweating, and Minho makes a noise of contentment.

“Don’t eat so fast, you’re just going to throw up,” Jihyo admonishes, and Jisung puts down his ice cream sheepishly. The corners of his mouth are smeared with it, and Minho teases him as he wipes a thumb along his lips. “Are you a child? Did your parents ever teach you how to eat properly?”

“Squirrels don’t need to learn how to eat _properly,_ “ Jisung says, grabbing Minho’s wrist before he can move his hand away and puffing his cheeks out. He moves towards him like he’s going to lick the ice cream off his finger, and Minho is struck by the sudden desire for him to do it. It fades as quickly as it comes, and Minho flicks his fingers, hitting Jisung in the cheek and making him back off. Still, it leaves a lingering swoop in his stomach. _Why did I want that?_ He thinks, and can’t come up with an answer.

“Want a bite?” Jisung asks, holding up his ice cream invitingly. Minho leans forward, trying not to get any of the quickly-melting treat on his mouth as he takes a bite, but he evidently fails.

“Now who’s the messy child?” Jisung snickers, and Minho, unthinkingly, stupidly, says, “Are you gonna lick that off too?”

Jisung blinks. There’s something like a second of awkward silence between them, and it makes Minho panic, because there’s no such thing as awkward between them. He’s about to open his mouth, to apologise, to say something, when Jisung wrinkles his nose — teasingly, Minho notes, with no small measure of relief — and says, “No, I wouldn’t want to taste your toothpaste ice cream.”

Minho rolls his eyes. His heart picks itself back up after the stumble, continues beating as it should. “It does _not_ taste like toothpaste.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of party games and laughter. Everyone gathers together for a huge game of ultimate frisbee, and with every stray gust of sea breeze they send the poor disc into the sea. Later, Changbin and Chan gang up to bodily haul Jisung over and dunk him in the waves. He emerges looking a bit like a drowned rat, and just as displeased as one, too. Minho narrowly avoids the same fate, but isn’t able to run away from Felix and Jeongin burying his legs in the sand.

It’s like this, damp, sandy and exhausted, that they return to their hotel rooms to wash up before dinner. Minho showers much faster, so Jisung lets him go first. He steps out in five minutes, drying his hair with a towel, and allows Jisung to have his daily karaoke session.

Jisung likes to play music while he’s in the shower. Minho knows this. Jisung also likes to sing along. Minho knows this, too. It’s been a long time since he’s heard it, though, so after settling down on his bed, his eyes slipping closed, knowing that his hair is making the pillow wet but not really caring, he still startles when he hears Jisung’s voice.

Usually, if they’re in either of their cars, they play Dean, or Ed Sheeran, artists they both like. As far as Minho knows, Jisung’s taste in music consists of the Top 20 current hits on Naver Music and the occasional pop punk artist. But Jisung is singing a song that Minho recognises but can’t quite place, one that he hasn’t heard in a long time.

He keeps his eyes half-closed and listens, sifting through his memories to find where he’s heard it before. Jisung’s voice, even muffled by the wall between them, is distinct and pleasing. He doesn’t think he’s ever told him before, but he really likes his voice, even when he’s just goofing off and copying the girl group song playing on the radio. 

Jisung sings, and oh, Minho remembers this song. It’s by that old American rock band, Red Hot Chili Peppers. He thinks that he can remember which album this is, even though he doesn’t know which specific song. He had a friend in middle school who was really into their music, and he recalls sitting in this friend’s bedroom doing his homework while this CD played.

It’s silent for a little while, and then another track starts up, too soft for Minho to really make out, and Jisung sings along to that one, too. Something in the timbre of Jisung’s voice hooks him, lures him into a honey-warm state of comfortable, and he hovers between wakefulness and sleep, letting Jisung’s singing wash over him. Minho counts up to four songs before the water stops running. 

Jisung comes out of the shower with his glasses on, the lenses fogged over. Minho blinks, feeling like he just woke up from a dream. “Since when do you like Red Hot Chili Peppers?” He asks.

“Oh,” Jisung waves a hand absently. “I heard one of their songs in a shop recently — you know the one called Road Trippin’? Yeah, I really liked it, so I found out who it was by, and I’ve been listening to them for, like, weeks.”

Minho hums, then asks for the name of the album, just to confirm. 

He listens to it, on the way to the restaurant they have dinner at, and then on the way back too. He didn’t expect Jisung to like this kind of music, but then again, there’s a reason why this band is so famous. He listens to it, and wants Jisung to sing him every track.

+++

After breakfast the next morning, their limbs still mellow with sleep and their faces still feeling sunburned, they set off for Seoraksan Mountain.

Of course, Minho understands that the implications of going to a mountain means that they’ll have to climb it. But it doesn’t quite sink in until they get off the bus at the foot of it, and he’s staring up at where the peak is — which is, very, very far from him.

“Yah,” Jisung whispers to him, and for once he doesn’t scold him for being disrespectful. “You okay, hyung? You don’t have to climb it if you don’t want to. Chan-hyung will let you stay down here, probably, and I can stay with you.”

“No. No, I’m fine, I’m going,” Minho says. Jisung casts him a look, brow creased, but in the end he just pats his shoulder and leads them both to join the group.

Going up is actually pretty nice. Sunshine filters through the foliage of the pine trees around them, dappling the ground with light. It’s a cool day for summer, with the occasional windy gust brushing past them, and although Minho is sweating he isn’t overheating. They go up what feels like a million staircases, and he’s certain everyone else’s thighs are aching just as much as his, but nobody wants to complain and disrupt the peacefulness of their hike.

As long as Minho keeps his eyes in front, he can forget that he’s leaving sweet solid ground far behind him.

Jisung sticks close to him as they walk. He points out the squirrels chittering in the branches above them, laughs at Hyunjin screaming at a particularly big bug, nudges his side and talks about anything that comes to mind. Minho doesn’t really say much, and Jisung doesn’t expect him to. It’s nice. Minho likes this.

“Hey, did you know that the pattern of pinecone spirals follow a specific mathematic formula?” Jisung is saying, examining a pinecone that he picked up somewhere along the way. “I forgot what it was called... Fibo-something-or-other. Learned that in the gen-ed stats class I took in year two, and it was the only thing I could think about during the exam. At least I passed, though.”

Minho looks at him right as Jisung steps into a pool of sunlight, and the outline of his hair lights up like a halo. It’s different; the lighting is natural, this time, and Jisung’s hair is no longer blue, but a memory unfurls in Minho’s head, anyway.

The end of finals week, the last university exams Minho would ever take. Everyone was celebrating, and the residents of the dormitory three blocks over threw a party. There was alcohol, and dancing, and a lot of friends, Minho’s fellow graduating students and underclassmen alike, who came up to him and congratulated him on surviving university up to now. Minho enjoyed himself; he didn’t look like the type, but he actually really liked socialising. That’s why he signed up to be an RA. But it was fast approaching 1am, and he’d found Jisung sprawled across someone’s lawn chair, not super drunk but more than a little tipsy, and he decided that the fun night was past its expiration date.

Jisung is a giggly, loose-lipped drunk. He blabbers whatever comes to mind and laughs at everything and does things on the slightest impulse. Minho just gets sleepy and red-faced when drunk, and his tolerance is higher than Jisung’s, so he’s had the pleasure of seeing Jisung embarrass himself plenty of times while he stays relatively sober and out of trouble. It’s still funny, though.

“Hyung, hyung, hyung hyung hyung,” Jisung sing-songs as they walk back to their dormitory. His arm is slung over Minho’s shoulders, and Minho has wrapped his own arm around Jisung’s waist. He isn’t so drunk that he’d collapse on the ground if Minho let him go, but Minho fears he’ll veer off the pavement and right into the path of an oncoming car.

“Hyung, I need to ask you something,” he says, and when Minho hums questioningly, he continues, “How are you single?”

Minho looks over at him, grinning. Here it is, the amusement that comes with looking after a drunk Jisung. “Do I need to remind you that you’re single, too?”

“Yeah, but, but,” Jisung says, then stops both his runaway train of thought and his feet. They’re right under a street lamp, and the light ringing Jisung’s blue hair is orange like the glow of embers. He removes his arm from around Minho’s shoulders, staring so intensely at his face that Minho feels a little uncomfortable, and then brings his hands up to Minho’s cheeks. In contrast to his aggressive tone, his touch is remarkably gentle.

“Just as I suspected.” Jisung nods to himself. Minho would ask him what exactly he had suspicions about, but for some reason the words get caught in his throat. It doesn’t matter, because Jisung tells him anyway, in a grave voice like he’s dispensing a piece of otherworldly advice. “You’re pretty. How come nobody has noticed this yet?”

 _Not nobody,_ Minho thinks, catching himself before he says it aloud. _You noticed, didn’t you?_

He doesn’t give a reply, but Jisung doesn’t seem too bothered by his silence. He continues examining Minho’s face, his eyes roaming all over until they land on his lips. Belatedly, Minho realises his arm is still holding Jisung’s waist. He almost doesn’t dare breathe, afraid the smallest inhale will shatter this tentative, glass-spun new development between them. Jisung leans in a fraction closer, and for a second it looks like he’s going to —

Jisung rears back, bursting into giggles. “Your face! Are you okay? You can’t have this strange reaction when people compliment you, what if someone flirts with you?”

Minho sucks in a breath. The cold air clears out the strange, tingly feeling that had ballooned in his lungs. He isn’t brave enough to call it hope. Rolling his eyes, he shakes off Jisung’s hands, and walks away to the sound of Jisung’s laughter, only to come back when the younger boy almost falls sideways. They go back to the dormitory.

The next time they see each other, Jisung doesn’t bring it up, so Minho doesn’t either. A few weeks later Minho graduates from university, and after that it’s a month until they see each other again, and by that time Minho has tucked the incident away among his other memories like flowers pressed dry between the pages of a book.

“Hyung?” Jisung says, present-Jisung, Jisung with his hair back to black and his face more defined with age. He steps out of the reach of sunlight, and the memory flits away, the spell lifted. “Was my pinecone-related math fact that fascinating? Say something.”

“Something,” Minho says automatically, just to be annoying. Jisung makes a face at him, but he doesn’t press about why Minho zoned out. “You looked like you reached enlightenment when I mentioned it. I thought you became Changbin-hyung for a moment.”

“I can hear you talking shit about my job again!” Changbin yells from ahead of them, already tackling the next set of staircases. “You can’t bully me when you need a calculator for the seven times-tables!”

“I do not!” Jisung protests, which, honestly. Minho has seen him take his phone out to figure out splitting the bill between them when they go out to eat. He’s not fooling anyone.

They reach Gwongeumseong Fortress with cheers of relief at the long climb finally ending. There’s not much of the fortress left, having long since fallen and crumbled. Still, while everyone clamours for the best view of the scenery below, their phones out and snapping pictures, Minho sticks close to the ruins and tries not to think about how, just fifty metres away, he could fall over the shitty rope acting as a railing and break all his bones.

Jisung takes a few quick photos, but then he wanders back and sits next to him in companionable silence. Unfortunately, trying not to give in to his fear means his brain latches onto the next most convoluted topic: the memory that he had almost forgotten about. _Stop overthinking it, it wasn’t that significant,_ Minho tells himself. It didn’t change anything about their friendship. They’ve never even mentioned it. Stupid fucking pinecones, making Minho think about things that should remain in the past, under the glow of a street lamp on a silent street.

Luckily for Minho, they go back down to a little outdoor restaurant along another trail. It’s not so much a restaurant as a collection of tables and a makeshift kitchen, and clearly the owner isn’t used to such a big group, but the seafood stew is heavenly.

After eating their fill, they hike back up to Gwongeumseong Fortress, cutting through the ruins to the other side of where they were previously. There, looms a cable car station that will bring them back down.

His legs feel like they’re weighed down with anchors as he steps into the cable car. The size of their group means that the cable car is crowded enough that, being in the middle, he can’t see through the glass, can’t see how overwhelmingly far they are from the safety of flat ground, and it helps. Still, the cable car jolts as it sets off, and Minho’s stomach lurches along with it.

“Minho-hyung,” Jisung whispers. They’re pressed practically side-to-side, and Minho can still hear him perfectly well even as their fellow employees _ooh_ and _aah_ at the view outside. He offers his arm without a word, and Minho clutches it like a lifeline.

“How are your cats doing? I miss them,” Jisung asks, which is really his roundabout way of saying _it’s okay, don’t be scared._ Minho can see right through it, but he’s grateful anyway. Besides, Jisung might genuinely miss his cats. He spoils them more than Minho does; half the cat toys in his apartment are gifts from Jisung alone.

“They’re doing well,” Minho says. Closing his eyes amplifies the sensation of rocking beneath his feet, so he keeps them open, locks them on Jisung’s face. “My parents are taking care of them right now. I’m scared that when I get back, Doongie’s gonna be overfed and Soonie’ll have forgotten who I am.”

“You’re not worried about Dori?” Jisung pats the hand that Minho has wrapped around his upper arm.

“Nothing could ever change the demon baby that Dori is,” Minho says. Jisung grins. “That’s why she’s my favourite.”

Minho is about to tell him that he’s not allowed to have favourites, they’re _his_ cats, when he catches Seungmin giving them a strange look from over Jisung’s shoulder. He furrows his brows, mouthing _what?_ but Seungmin just turns back with a frown.

“Something happen?” Jisung asks, twisting his torso to look in Seungmin’s direction. Minho shakes his head, tugging at his arm so Jisung has his attention on him again. “It’s nothing. Just Seungminnie being weird.”

The cable car abruptly shakes again, and Minho, on instinct, buries his face in Jisung’s shoulder. The smell of Jisung’s detergent clinging onto his clothes comforts him, and he takes a deep breath. He thinks, _he hasn’t changed his detergent brand since university,_ and then, _why do I remember that?_

Jisung pats his hand again, his fingers lingering as he says, “It’s okay, we’re almost there.”

The cable car docks, finally, and they disembark, Minho in particular with an unparalleled degree of relief. He doesn’t have time to savour in the security of being back at the foot of the mountain though, before Seungmin pulls him to the back of the group, away from where Jisung is teasing Jeongin.

“What is _with_ you and Jisung?” He hisses, low enough that the people around them miss it amidst the chatter.

“Nothing’s with us,” Minho says. He and Jisung have been the same, haven’t they? Or at least, the weirdness had only been on his end. Jisung is the same as he’s always been. 

That makes him a little uneasy, though. If Jisung is as he always is, why is everything he thought was set in stone between them changing?

“You can’t tell me you don’t notice it?” Seungmin says, dismayed. Minho stares at him. “You guys have been even clingier than normal. That’s really saying something, considering how you‘re already attached at the hip normally.”

Minho wants to tell him there’s nothing amiss here, but chances are he really is blind to it. Seungmin has always had this all-knowing perceptiveness when it comes to his friends. He could tell that Hyunjin and Jisung actually wanted to be friends, even though when Jisung first joined the school all they did was blow up at each other and then ice the other person out. For two people who are as in-sync as Minho and Jisung, it’s not hard for Seungmin to sense when something is incongruous.

“I don’t know,” Minho finally says. “We’re sharing a room, right, we haven’t been in this close proximity since university. That’s probably it. We were always like this back then. It’s nothing.”

Seungmin looks at him like he wants to say more, but eventually he huffs and mutters _hopeless_ before stalking off.

Minho just watches him go. Jisung wanders back to his side before long, and when he’s asked what happened, Minho says, “Would it kill Seungmin if he wasn’t so cryptic for once?”

Jisung, in true Jisung-and-Minho fashion, doesn’t question what he’s going on about, just agrees. “Maybe he should just drop the teacher gig and just become a psychic.”

“Might be easier than him trying to set the English papers with Felix every year,” Minho says.

“ _Noooo, Seungmin-ah, this question is too hard! The point is to have them actually pass, you know that right?_ ” Jisung mimics. Minho grins at him, and he grins back, and for a moment something shifts out of rhythm again. It’s gone too quickly for Minho to determine if it’s their dynamic, or his heart.

In the afternoon sun, his feet on the ground and his face split in a smile, Minho thinks that, maybe this isn’t a bad change.

+++

“Just as I suspected,” Jisung is saying. The light streaming down from above engulfs them in orange. Minho is mesmerised, by the ring of fire around Jisung’s blue hair, by the heat of his hands on Minho’s jaw, by the intensity of Jisung’s eyes on his. “You’re pretty. How come nobody has noticed this yet?”

Minho knows how this part goes. It’s quiet on this street, and he doesn’t dare speak, and for a second it looks like Jisung is going to lean in. But he doesn’t, and they don’t talk about it, and it remains a pocket of time in his memory that doesn’t seem quite real. But he opens his mouth. His voice sounds muffled even to his own ears. “Not nobody. You noticed, didn’t you?”

Jisung stares up at him. His eyes are bright, untouched by the haze of alcohol. “I did, didn’t I?” He says. His voice is clear, and amused. How is he already sober?

“I think I deserve a prize for noticing,” Jisung says, and then he stands on his tiptoes.

They’re kissing. It’s so weird, _it’s so weird_ , because Jisung tastes like peppermint even though Minho knows he’s been throwing back nothing but soju the whole night, and Minho feels hot all over his body, like he’s going to burn through his clothes, and Jisung’s mouth is almost too soft to be real. But then Jisung parts his lips, swipes his tongue across Minho’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth too, and Minho’s brain stops working.

Minho removes the arm he has around Jisung’s waist, sliding his hand up Jisung’s shirt — where did his jacket go? Minho is certain he was wearing a jacket — and his skin is scorching hot, their points of contact like gasoline meeting fire. It’s so quiet on this street, he can hear nothing but the beating of his heart in his ears. The world melts away, shrinks down to just this street lamp, just Jisung’s lips and tongue and skin, just this unbearable, unnatural heat —

Minho wakes up. He’s sweating. The room is air-conditioned, but the sheets beneath his back are definitely damp with sweat. He breathes, hard, stuttering breaths through his mouth, and when his senses come back to him a little he realises how _loud_ he’s being, and immediately clamps his mouth shut and looks to the side.

Jisung is still sleeping, in the bed not even a meter away from him. Just looking over at his curled-up figure is enough to send a flush of heat through Minho’s body, and all that does is remind him.

He dreamed about kissing Jisung. He had a dream in which he practically made out with his best friend, set in a memory of a could-have-been. In his sleep, he kissed Han Jisung, and he had liked it, and now that he’s awake, he doesn’t think the feeling has changed.

Minho throws the covers off him. It’s still dark-ish outside, only thin, watery light outlining the bottom of the horizon signalling the beginning of their last day in Naksan. He stumbles blindly into the washroom, washes his face, rinses his mouth out. Peppermint. He catches sight of Jisung’s toothpaste, set on the bathroom sink next to his own (fuck) and it’s peppermint-flavoured ( _fuck_ ). He leaves the bathroom before he can make any more distressing revelations.

He doesn’t want to remain in the room, where he can hear Jisung’s even breathing and shifting in his sleep, but he can’t just leave without saying anything, either. He checks his phone; he has about half an hour before the alarm he set last night is scheduled to go off. Setting it aside, he steps out onto the balcony.

Dawn is starting to break in earnest now, and the landscape is transformed. The slowly ascending sun coaxes the sky into a deep orange, billowing clouds embellishing its underbelly. Its rays seep into the ocean’s surface, and it’s as if someone took a match and lit a trail of blazing fire across the water. Minho leans against the parapet and stares at the breathtaking sight, and his breath remains firmly in his lungs as his brain skitters from thought to thought like a scared animal.

He supposes, now, he has to admit that Seungmin is right. Something has changed on the trip, for better or for worse. He doesn’t get why, now of all times, it comes to light; or maybe it’s always been there, waiting below the surface. _The whole reason I stay away from open water is to avoid things sneaking up on me,_ he despairs. _But it still happened, anyway._

He has feelings for Jisung. The exact nature of said feelings isn’t certain, but the warm fluttering he gets in his stomach when he thinks back to the kiss in his dream is clear as day. 

So. Now what?

Before Minho can go down another mental rabbit hole trying to solve that tricky problem, he hears the balcony door slide open behind him, and soft footsteps getting closer. Jisung comes to stand next to him, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Why are you awake?” Minho asks, looking at him. He is sleep-rumpled and quiet, so unlike the usual ball of energy he is, and Minho has to swallow around a lump forming in his throat when his eyes catch on the way his oversized shirt is falling off his shoulder.

“You were being noisy,” Jisung complains. He pouts. Minho looks away. “I tried going back to sleep, but after a while I realised I needed to pee. And then when I came back I saw that you weren’t in your bed. Something happen?”

“No,” Minho lies. Jisung shifts his weight from foot to foot. In the end, he decides not to call Minho out of his obvious lie, and they observe the sunrise in silence. Usually, looking out from high up like this would make Minho at least a little queasy, but he’s preoccupied with the press of Jisung’s arm against his.

“I knew having a room higher up would be worth it,” Jisung says softly. Minho can’t help but look back at him, his gaze drawn to him again and again. “Look at the view.”

“It’s pretty,” Minho says, his eyes still tracing the lines of Jisung’s face. His breath flees him, this time.

Jisung notices the incessant eye contact, and he turns his head to face Minho, blinking. “What?”

 _So, now what?_ Minho thinks, and then, _What else? Take a chance._

“Can I try something?” He asks. His voice is different: tentative, cautious, the first step into new territory. If he can hear it, Jisung certainly can.

“Try what?” Jisung blinks, turning his torso so they’re both facing each other.

Minho doesn’t reply. He raises a hand and, as gentle as he remembers Jisung’s touch to be, cups the slope of Jisung’s jaw. He and Jisung are always on the same wavelength. Jisung knows from this what Minho wants to do, and Minho knows from his widening eyes that he knows.

“Do you still want to try it?” It’s barely above a whisper. The soft light of the sunrise paints the side of Jisung’s face with gold. His hair is fluffy, his bedhead sticking up in the cutest way. His skin is flushing even under the slightest contact between his cheek and Minho’s hand. Minho’s heartbeat is running and stumbling, picking itself up and running and stumbling again. His entire body is burning with the desire for Jisung to say _yes._

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes, and then he’s surging up on his tiptoes — Minho can’t believe he got that detail right — and his lips are on his and whatever was out of rhythm, out of sync, clicks back into place again.

Jisung doesn’t taste like peppermint. He doesn’t taste very much like anything at all, except faintly of his lip balm that Minho honestly kind of hates. They kiss until they run out of breath, and then Minho pushes him down until he’s not standing on his tiptoes anymore, and Jisung grabs his waist — oh, oh _shit_ , he’d forgotten he’s shirtless, oh my God are hands supposed to be that warm — and he’s leaning in again and biting Minho’s bottom lip until he relents, opening his mouth.

There’s something exhilarating about chaste kissing quickly devolving into sloppy making out, especially out on a balcony while the rising sun threads golden light into Jisung’s hair. Minho’s hands somehow move from Jisung’s face to his waist to the parapet, bracketing him in and pressing his back against the barrier. Jisung has, at some point, looped his arms around his neck instead, and the way he tugs softly at the hair on Minho’s nape when Minho licks into his mouth is torturous. 

_I should have just kissed him all those years ago, under that stupid street lamp,_ Minho thinks, in between fleeting, gasping thoughts about Jisung’s mouth and tongue and hands in his hair. _How could I have cheated myself of this for years?_

This is, of course, when the world reminds him that it can continue to cheat him. A shrill ringing sounds from inside the hotel room, travelling outside loud and clear through the open door. Minho jolts so suddenly he almost bites down on Jisung’s lip, _hard._ Both of them stand there for a moment, catching their breath as his alarm screams loud enough to wake the entire floor.

Finally, Jisung ducks under Minho’s arm, walking back inside to turn it off. Minho doesn’t think, just reaches out and says, panicked, “Wait—”

“Whatever it is, it can wait until I shut that dumb thing up,” Jisung says, turning back just enough to shoot him a smile that says he knows exactly what Minho is worried about. The hurricane inside Minho’s head, just beginning to whirl again, dissipates immediately. Of course, what was he thinking? Jisung is his best friend. He wouldn’t just — leave, or anything like that, after they kissed. Whatever this new thing between them is, they’ll figure it out together.

Minho isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. What’s the etiquette after you spontaneously make out with your best friend? So he stays out on the balcony, his brain still foggy, and listens as the alarm abruptly cuts off. The sun has long since risen fully, and the sky has faded back to an expanse of blue, broken up by big, fluffy clouds. The breeze brings the smell of the ocean to him, salty in the back of his throat. It tastes like a new beginning.

Jisung comes back out. His shirt has been straightened out, but his lips are red and swollen, and in the sunlight his brown eyes melt into liquid amber. Minho isn’t sure what to do with himself for a moment, but Jisung comes to him and kisses the corner of his mouth, his hands finding their way to Minho’s waist again.

“Took you long enough,” is all he says, but Minho gets it immediately. This rhythm is unfamiliar, exciting and strange and wholly uncharted, but ultimately, they’re Jisung and Minho, best friends, best teachers, always in harmony even when the beat changes.

+++

They have a free day today to do whatever they want before they depart for Seoul after lunch. Felix invites them to go to the beach again, along with the rest, but Jisung turns to Minho and says, “Hyung, I kinda want to visit Naksansa Temple.” And well, Minho hardly has any experience denying Jisung of what he wants, and he’s definitely not going to start now.

Seungmin throws them both a look, his eyes narrowed, but Minho just returns it with an innocent smile. They’ll have to tell their friends about them eventually, but for now, Minho doesn’t want to hear Seungmin gloating about how he _knew_ (even though he one-hundred percent did, way better than Minho).

They seem to be the only ones heading to the temple, so they take a public bus there. It’s located up a cliff, and on the twenty-minute trip over winding roads, Jisung falls asleep with his head on Minho’s shoulder. He waits until Jisung’s breathing is slow and even, deep in slumber, before he presses a butterfly kiss to the top of his head.

The temple is so beautiful. Minho didn’t really get why Jisung wanted to come here, given that neither of them are particularly religious, but now he can see it. The architecture is stunning, the atmosphere is peaceful, like time doesn’t exist in a place like this, and best of all, it’s early enough in the day that aside from the monks they encounter and bow to at the entrance, they’re alone.

They walk through the temple in silence, careful not to disturb the calm that blankets the area. Lit incense sticks flicker and burn in the metal censers around them, wisps of smoke trailing up to the heavens. After they make their rounds around the main temple, they head to the pavilion built separate from the rest of the temple, closer to the edge of the cliff. Somewhere along the way, Jisung’s hand has found its way into Minho’s.

There’s a structure set up on the side of the pavilion, two thick flat slats with several bamboo poles all down their lengths, connecting them. Small wooden plaques are hung on notches on the poles, clattering in the wind, all covered in words in different handwriting. Jisung reads the placard on the table next to it, placed along with a box and a stack of similar but blank plaques.

“For five thousand won we can write our prayers on them and hang it up here,” Jisung tells him, and tugs on his hand. “C’mon, let’s do it.”

Minho agrees, and they drop their money into the box before taking a plaque each. Jisung bends over his immediately, scribbling away, but Minho pauses. What does he have to pray for? He already has everything he wants.

Finally, he writes, succinctly enough that he and Jisung are done at the same time even though the other started way earlier.

They hang up their plaques next to each other. Minho reads the words on each of them, a smile gracing his lips.

Jisung: _May the next school term be stress-free and productive, and may all my kids come back to school with their assignments actually completed. Please bless us, our families and our friends with good health. May Minho-hyung and I always stick together. Thank you._

Minho: _Let us find happiness in each other._

“Wow, hyung, so romantic,” Jisung teases, but the way his fingers slot themselves back in the gaps between Minho’s belies the affection in his words.

“I’ll show you romantic,” Minho says, and pulls him into a kiss.

He does actually taste like peppermint this time. And with his lips on Jisung’s mouth, sunlight hitting the back of his eyelids, Minho thinks his prayer won’t be hard to answer at all.

**Author's Note:**

> and scene! my dear recipient, if you made it down here, please share your thoughts in the comments! i would love to hear from you ♡
> 
> some minor things to clarify:  
> • i took some liberties in describing the details, but the places in this fic are all real! from what i researched, they’re all very beautiful, so if you’re planning on going to sokor you can look them up too hahah  
> • the wooden plaques at the end of the fic are called ema, and i encountered them when i visited temples in japan. i don’t know if they’re common in korean temples as well, but if they aren’t then i’m sorry for the inaccuracy!! again please close your eyes and let it pass!  
> • title from taylor swift’s fearless ♡ her album of the same name forms the holy trinity with speak now and red. no i don’t accept constructive criticism.
> 
> the biggest, BIGGEST thank you to ammy for being my cheerleader throughout my writing process and for organising this fest too! love you babes
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/huanggeum) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/kkumdoongie)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] absentmindedly making me want you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531617) by [the24thkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the24thkey/pseuds/the24thkey)




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